I am the voice that is always calling you
by The Godess Freya
Summary: A story set in the 1920's. A singer is caught in a deadly encounter, and only one man can save her. An original one-shot.


And for the other one-shot, this is based in the 1920's. I tried not to use too much lingo, because I for one wouldn't want to google hunt everything I didn't understand.

So! This is my attempt at a first historical requested one-shot (geez that's a lot of adjectives) and hopefully, it turned out fine.

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The woman sat perfectly in her chair, looking cool and composed as she had when she breezed into the theater. Her crossed legs showed her delicately sculpted calves and the long, slender cigarette she held in her hand gave her the air of sophistication many the females around her couldn't achieve. Her sky blue dress only drew men's eye, and allowed her the attention she had craved for so long.

"Are you entertained, my lovely kitten?" Kitty turned to the man beside of her and smiled, leaving the man a puddle at her diamond high heeled stilletos.

"Of course, Henry. You know I love to watch the competition." At 19, she was a master of her craft, and to be at the top of her game, she had to know the competition. She knew she had to intricately style her long dirty blond hair, and accentuate her oddly shade of grey eyes. No one else in the business had the allure of her eyes, and she knew she had to show them off.

"Lucy's been in the show biz for more than five years, and she's one year older," Henry warned.

"Darling," she drawled in the cultured voice she had perfected for the outside world, "I've been in the business since I was ten." She placed the cigarette on her ruby red lips, aware of the male eyes going straight to her plump lips. "I believe you said my voice was quite the thing. And, I also believe it was you who suggested watching Lucy's set tonight."

"Well...horsefeathers." Kitty giggled, or purred, as she liked to call it, and turned back to the show. Onstage, a redhead was singing her heart out, and Kitty wanted to hear the pitch and texture of Lucy's voice. For the normal person, she sang like an angel. But for Kitty, she could hear the off notes, and the missed notes of the other female performer.

"I think we've heard enough," Kitty finally stated after hearing a few songs from Lucy.

"That quickly?"

"Henry, Henry. You're supposed to like me, not her."

"Why do I put up with you?" he asked with a sigh, gathering his coat into his arms. Kitty stood and wrapped her blue silken shawl over her shoulders and let it slide down her arms for a few inches. Again, she felt men's eyes on her, and she knew her arrival here had definately made a statement.

"Because I bring you so much money and laughter," Kitty answered breezily as they walked up the stairs to the door.

"I haven't laughed tonight," he replied. At the door, kitty turned slightly and fixed the full impact of her eyes onto Henry's. He automatically stopped.

"But Henry, whoever said it was your laughter I was discussing?" She then breezed out of the door, leaving her befuddled manager lookint at his feet.

"She wins every time," he said with a sigh, before following her out of the door.

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"Welcome back Kit!" The singer, no longer dolled up, entered into her favorite bar and smiled at her best friend at the bar. No one here knew her true identy as the famous singer,and she wanted to keep it that way. So, in turn, she donned a merely decent dress and took off all the makeup, to turn down the sex appeal.

"Hello Catherine!" Kitty slid next to her friend, ignoring the shady men in the far corner. Mobsters were quite common, especially with the law understaffed. Yet being a native of New York, she knew to just leave them alone, and they would extend the same courtesy.

"Hey Johnny," Kitty said, smiling to the bartender.

"Oi, my little Kitsilano. Where have you been these past few days?" Johnny continued to clean out glasses as he conversed with Kitty. Kitty's first name didn't bother her anymore. She considered it a pet name, since only Johnny used it.

"Don't ask don't tell, Johnny."

"Frisky tonight, aren't ya gal?" Kitty laughed and thanked John as he set a glass of water in front of her.

"Oh, don't you know it. How's the wife?" Kitty asked, generally interested. Here was her home roots; this neighborhood had been so dear to her growing up. She loved Johnny and Catherine, and held everyone close to her heart...though she would be loath to admit it to anyone.

"Good. She had the baby and ended up naming him Jesse. Cute kid though. Looks just like his father." Johnny's chest puffed up with pride, and the two women giggled.

"Gimmie your best, keep." Johnny slid away from the two women and went to serve the man in the fancy suit. All three of them knew to keep their mouth shut and eyes averted, hopefully not to draw attention to themselves.

"And a round for the dollface, here." He gestured toward Kitty, who reluctantly turned and smiled at the man.

"Thanks sir, but I don't drink." She'd learned her lesson long ago, and hadn't touched liquor since. However, instead of taking his drink and leaving, the man sat beside Kitty, who inwardly cursed at her bad luck.

"What, a pretty girl like you doesn't drink?" the man slid his arm around her in an obvious flirting attempt, and Kitty fidgited. You didn't say no to the mob. Never.

Fortunately, Kitty was saved by the door. When it opened, the mobster turned and stiffened, withtracting his arm and getting to his feet.

"Officer. You got some guts comin in here like this." Kitty and Catherine both turned, and Kitty was met with the most handsome man she had ever seen. He had cutting facial features, with sky blue eyes that made Kitty's own widen with wonder. He was taller than she was, she knew, and she could tell he was physically fit. Plus, if he could make this mobster get to his feet without saying a word, he was a definite keeper.

"Same to you, Milton. Why don't you and your gang skeedadle before I start taking people to the slammer?" The mobster stiffened, but bit back the words on his tongue.

"Come on!" he commanded between clenched teeth. His men dutitfully followed and everyone breathed a sigh of relief as the last mobster left. The officer watched the door, knowing the tense standoff could escalate into a firefight, but fortunately, the door stayed shut.

"Drinks are on the house for you, copper," Johnny stated, grateful. Growing up in mobster territory, he knew the havoc they could wreak.

"Thanks." He sat down one seat away from Kitty and Catherine, who were both watching with avid fascination. Never before had they seen anyone so...male, and Kitty was fascinated.

"How did you make them leave?" she asked, forgetting to culture her voice. "You didn't even have to draw your gun." The man turned to look at her, and Kitty felt the impact all the way to her toes.

"Because they know me." Considering that a good answer, he turned back to his drink, and took a gulp.

"Who are you, then?" Kitty continued to question, undaunted by the seemingly cold exterior of the cop.

"Vincent Parker." Thinking a moment, Kitty shook her head.

"I haven't heard of you."

"Kit! This is the man that put Louis Potts behind bars!" With the frenzied hiss from Catherine, Kitty laughed.

"All right Mr. I-put-Potts-in-the-slammer. From the way Catherine is whispering, I suspect your famous." The man took another swig of his drink before truly looking over to see Kitty for the first time. The first thing he noticed was the humor in her eyes, and the slight grin of her lips.

"Yeah," he answered, this time not turning back to his beer.

"So why here? I mean, sure, this place has mobsters, but Potts ruled New York. Aren't you scared?"

"No. Why should I be?" Kitty laughed, amused by his blatant disregard for himself.

"You're going to drive your wife crazy with that kind of talk."

"I'm not married." Kitty raised an eyebrow.

"I'd keep it that way, Vincey boy." She finished the last of her water and placed the empty glass on the table. "Hope you have fun listening to Kitty tomorrow, you two," she continued. "Sorry I couldn't make it." Catherine shrugged.

"Your loss my gain."

"I know you love me deep down inside," Kitty answered her back, causing her friend to grin. "I'll see you two around. See you as well, Vincey boy." She turned to walk out, and for once, she couldn't tell if the cop was staring at her or not. She was already in overdrive by sitting next to him, and Kitty wanted nothing more than to go back inside and wheedle more information out of him.

She opened the door, and paused when she saw the black car waiting on the street corner. Milton, the man from the bar, stepped out of the black limo, and Kitty didn't think. She bolted back inside and ran to the bar.

"Johnny! He's outside waiting for me. Get your gun! Oh god, he's going to come inside!" Johnny quickly placed the clean glass onto the bar and reached under the bar for his weapon.

"Get behind the bar, Kitsilano." Kitty did as she was told and managed to crawl over the high bar table and hid by Johnny's feet.

"Stay quiet, girl," the cop warned, and Kitty was of a mind to obey him.

"You better keep that reputation, Vincey boy." She heard him chuckle and hear the bell above the door ring, signaling that someone had walked inside.

"Where's that flapper!" Milton called, and Kitty cringed. Did she really come across as a flapper?

"Didn't I tell you to leave?" Vincent asked quietly, his voice full of menace.

"Gimmie the broad and no one has to get hurt." With that, Kitty's hear leaped in her chest. There were innocent people inside of the bar, along with Catherine and Johnny, who she couldn't bear to lose. A single gunshot rang out and Kitty bolted to her feet, scared for her friends. She saw Milton with his gun pointed at Vincent, and Vince's and Johnny's gun pointed at Milton.

"Please, don't hurt anyone!" She heard Vincent swear under his breath and she climbed over the bar. "I'll come with you, just don't hurt anyone!" Knowing this was crucial, she allowed tears to flow down her face and held her hands close to her chest, as if afraid.

"Come on, dollface. I'll show you a good time." She began to walk over to Milton, when she purposefully stumbled. As she did, she heard gunshots ring out, and she curled into a little ball, waiting for the gunfight to stop. As soon as it began, it ended, and Kitty looked around at the damage. Milton along with four of his buddies were dead, and Johnny's bar was full of bullet holes. Johnny himself was all right, and so was Catherine, who had taken refuge behind the bar as well.

"Why can't you do as your told, you stupid broad?" Kitty turned to see Vincent, holding his bleeding arm. She gasped and ran over to him. "Quit it."

"You quit it," Kitty shot back. "Johnny, I'll need a room tonight."

"201," he said, giving up his best room for the cop. "I'll take you there."

"I've got to go to the hospital," Vince protested.

"Johnny, if he keeps this argument up, knock him out."

"Yes ma'am." Johnny began to help Vincent up the stairs to his new room.

"I've been shot-" he began, but Kitty cut him off.

"It seems to have gone straight through, and since you won't let me look at it, I can't help you yet. Now, if you'll shut up and walk with us, I can check to see if the bullet splintered and fix you up."

"Obstinate woman."

"Is that all you can come up with? Broad was worse than that."

"Unlike Milton, my mother taught me to respect women."

"Then she's my new hero. Here we are." Johnny opened the door and helped Vincent to the bed.

"I'll get the supplies." With that, he left the room, and Kitty allowed the facade to fall, showing her worry.

"Are you all right?" she asked, smoothing his shaggy black hair from his forehead. "I'm sorry for not listening, but I was afraid...that my friends..." she trailed off, amazed she had nearly admitted her worry, and shook her head. "Is it just your arm?"

"Yes," he muttered, his voice gruff. "It's just a scratch."

"A scratch my ass," Kitty muttered, pulling his hand away from the injury. "I need for you to take off your shirt." The wary look on his face made her grin. "Either you take it off, or I rip it. I'm fine with either." Knowing she was serious, Vincent sat up and began to strip. Kitty helped him and let him lie back down. She put the shirt in the corner and looked at his arm.

"Do you even know what you're doing?"

"My mother's a nurse," she answered on a sigh of relief. It was a scratch on his arm, barely an inch deep.

"That's not what I asked."

"Relax, Vincey boy. I know what I'm doing." Kitty finally looked up from his arm, and was brought to her knees by the sight of his bare chest. She could see the knife scars and bullet scars, and she felt a sense of sadness so keen, it brought tears to her eyes. "Vincent...what...happened to you?"

"I was tortured," he answered gruffly. Not thinking about her action before she did it, Kitty sat on the bed, and leaned onto his chest, hugging him.

"I'm sorry." She could feel his surprise and got off of him, turning back to his arm.

"You don't even know me."

"I don't have to know you to realize you were in pain," Kitty fired back, slightly miffed. She wiped her tears just in time, for Johnny came inside with the first aid supplies he kept on hand.

"Is it bad?" Johnny asked, not even perturbed by the half naked state of the cop.

"No, just a scratch. He's lucky." With this out of the way, Kitty placed a towel under the wound to catch some of the blood, and grabbed antiseptic from the box. "This'll hurt Vincey boy." She felt him tense and poured the antibiotics on the wound. A hiss escaped from him, but both Kitty and Johnny knew not to comment on it.

"Bandages?" Johnny asked. Kitty nodded and Johnny handed them to her. She began to wrap his arm efficiently, just as her mother had taught her to do. Finally, she finished and she placed his arm back on the bed.

"There you go. Fixed up as good as new. Thanks for the help Johnny, and I hope you get better soon, Vincey boy." For some odd reason, now Kitty had the urge to flee. She knew she was going to cry and she knew that the ordeal had scared her more than she could admit. She fled the room and ran past the patrons, and into the street. She saw the black car was gone, but she didn't care. She just kept running. Finally, she reached her apartment suite and came to a stop outisde of the door.

"Miss Kitty, are you all right?" Kitty looked toward the bellhop, tears pouring down her face.

"They were dead...all of them. I could smell their blood, and Vincent was hurt, and it was all my fault!" Before Kitty could make more of a scene, the bellhop ushered her inside and took her to the elevator. As they waited, Kitty tried to compose herself, and managed to hold back her tears once again. Finally, the elevator doors opened, the bellhop walked her inside.

"Get some sleep, Miss Kitty. I'll deal with the cops, if they come around."

"Thank you, Edward." Kitty took a deep cleansing breath and let it out as the elevator doors began to close. To her consternation, a hand shot in just before they closed fully, and the doors opened to reveal the person who had stopped them. Kitty eyes widened as the elevator clerk simply watched.

"Thanks," Vincent stated as he entered the elevator as well. He turned to Kitty, who averted her eyes. She was mad at herself. Where was her carefully cultured confidence, her air of sohpistication? Nothing. She could draw on none of her perfected wiles. The elevator was silent on the trip to her room, and finally, she exited on the ninth floor. Vincent followed her, of course, and she led the way to her suite. She opened the door and stepped to the side so Vincent could come in.

"You got some serious cash here, Kitsilano." She couldn't answer; she was holding onto her control by a mere thread. Finally, Vincent turned back to the woman who had intrigued him, only to see her trembling. "You've never seen anyone die before, have you sweetheart?" Kitty shook her head mutely. "Come here." Kitty shut the door and walked up to Vincent. To her surprise, he drew her into a hug. This broke Kitty's control, and she began to cry as she never had before.

"They were....they..."

"I know." He began to smooth her hair and let his chin rest on the top of her head. Vincent felt at peace for once in his life, his guard completely torn down by the sight of this woman's tears. Never before had he been so intrigued, and never before had he needed to comfort like this. He even felt the first strings of protectiveness and possessiveness, and he didn't even know the woman's last name.

Finally, Kitty exhausted all of her tears, but she allowed herself to stay in Vincents arms. His male presence was soothing, and he was holding her lightly, as if she was a precious possession that might be broken at any time. It was...refreshing.

"I...have some water if you would like some."

"I want answers, Kitsilano. That's all." Kitty nodded, composing herself, and managed to send him a sassy smile. She saw a hint of a smile on his face and gestured toward the couch. She took the chair and he laid down, grateful to rest his arm.

"What's your question?" she asked, pretty sure she knew what was coming first.

"Why dress like you do?" Wait...what?

"I...I don't understand."

"Why, when you have all of this money, do you dress...like that?" With his ignorance, her strength came back, and she smiled a slow, languid smile that made all of the men melt at her feet.

"Because I can?"

"I took a bullet for you. I deserve the truth."

"You make a good argument, Vincey boy. All right, it's because I grew up in the neighborhood. Dad used to work as the bartender for the club, and I've been keeping it alive ever since. I go there because Catherine and Johnny are my friends, and because I like taking a break every once in a while."

"A break from what?" Vincent asked, truly intrested now. The cool exterior was back, shielding her vunerabilities from him once again, and he was more interested than ever. This woman was an enigma and he couldn't place her into any category.

"Being Kitty Pride." His eyes widened.

"The singer?"

"The one and only. Did my eyes not give me away?"

"No." Kitty laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"It's usually my eyes."

The room became quiet for a few moments, and Kitty finally said what was on her mind.

"I want to thank you for protecting my friends and I. It was very brave of you. And please, don't say it was nothing. We both know different."

"Your welcome."

"It isn't much for my life, but I want to give you a thousand dollars." Vince's eyes widened. "For your reward."

"I don't want it," Vince found himself saying. Inwardly he swore, but kept on going. "I want something else." Kitty raised an eyebrow.

"And that would be...?"

"You. I want to go out on a date with you." Kitty stood and walked over to him, leaning over his head.

"There's no reason you can't have both, is there?" With that, she knelt down and kissed him softly on his lips, knowing that for once, she was truly happy. Who would have thought little Kitty Pride would end up not with a rich gent, but with a cop who had saved her life?


End file.
